Chieftain of the Bold Wolves
Chieftain of the Bold Wolves is an encounter in The Savage North. It comes after The Huscarl's Offer or Frost Wyrm Saga 6. Enemies *Kveldulf's Berserker (2080 Gold, 256 XP, 160 Energy, 9 HP) *Kveldulf's Huscarl (2405 Gold, 296 XP, 185 Energy, 9 HP) *Kveldulf's Werewolf (2730 Gold, 336 XP, 210 Energy, 9 HP) *Chieftain Kveldulf (5980 Gold, 736 XP, 460 Energy, 1 HP) *Locked until others are defeated* Transcript Introduction The marching Nords come to a halt. You and your companions do the same. Your eyes are drawn to the tallest man of the group, who stands in the center of the warriors and carries about him the unmistakable air of command. His garb and weapons are little different from those the others wear and wield. But even so, his bearing is enough to mark him out as the Bold Wolves' leader. "Who are you?" he demands. "My scout said he saw the chieftain of the Frost Wyrm Clan fighting alongside an oroc -- killing my people." Well, no point trying to deceive him... You orange friend is far too distinctive for that. "Your scout was mistaken." You tap the flat of your blade against the crest of your shield. "I'm not Frost Wyrm." He scrutinizes the emblem for several seconds, as though making quite certain that it's not the symbol of the rival tribe. "I came here to challenge him to single-combat. I would have presented his head to King Crenus." "That's unfortunate." "You killed Bold Wolves? Shed the blood of my clan?" "I did." "Then I'll take your head instead." Conclusion You block, parry, feint, attack... Your body executes the motions of combat as you battle Kveldulf, executing the manoeuvres which your muscles have performed so many times that they're now second nature -- as instinctive as running or writing. But your thoughts are elsewhere. Another enemy... Another man made into your foe by the whims of fate, a leader seeking just vengeance against those who trespassed into his domain and slew his people. His axe cleaves at your head. You batter his arms aside with your shield. He's off balance... A single thrust would end this. But you don't make it. More blood spilled for your traitor family, for the line that turned against the king they were sworn to serve... More souls hurled into the abyss so destiny can bring about whatever machinations it's chosen to weave around you. The chieftain regains his poise. He swings his weapon at your waist. You leap out of its arc. So that fate can spit in your eye and make you a pale imitation of your ancestor's glory, a baser hero for a baser age. But it doesn't have to be like that. You have the power to bring an end to it, to spurn kismet, defy the gods. It's simple... It's always been so very simple. Kveldulf swings his axe again. This time you step in, block, and stumble. He barks out a wordless syllable of delight as you fall onto your knee. He raises his axe, ready to strike your head from your shoulders before you can recover. You have no intention of doing so. His blade will fall. Death will come. Destiny will be denied. The chieftain's axe cleaves down towards you. Freedom glimmers on its edge. But steel flashes, and you live. Rakshara's sword, that piece of history, relic of the entangling past, catches the axe. Kveldulf's blade is suspended above your head, taunting and teasing, held away by Rogar's Dream. And so you watch as your friend saves you and damns you, as she throws the chieftain backwards, knocks his axe aside with her crystal shield, and drives her sword into his heart. Destiny dances onwards, laughing at your plight. Category:The Savage North